


So a Nun Walks into a Bar...

by Emmeg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Feminine Castiel, Femslash, My First Destiel Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeg/pseuds/Emmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the apocalypse Cas gets a new vessel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Dean huffed as he shook out the wrinkled shirt he was folding, here they were, the apocalypse looming days away, totally out of options, and he was doing the friggin' laundry. Sam sat on the opposite bed, supposedly finishing up some last minute research on the apocalypse, but Dean had a feeling he was just trying to distract himself from his own decision of letting Lucifer take over his body. His brother was noticeably stressed, he kept unconsciously shaking his leg and chewing gum like a cow chewing its last cud. Dean had a weird urge to ruffle his hair like he used to when Sam was a kid. Dean halted these thoughts quickly. He couldn't keep doing this. Agonizing and trying to think of escape routes when there were none.  

Cas had been crouched next to the TV for the past hour, mindlessly flipping through the channels, until he wasn’t. Dean was pretty sure Sam could hear an audible crack as his head whipped around. Cas was now entranced by none other than The Bachelorette.

“Welcome to your first Rose Ceremony Gentlemen! Let’s welcome your Bachelorette, Alexis!”

Seventeen or eighteen grown men stood in a semi-circle each one looking like a life-size Ken doll as a woman walked onstage. She appeared more prepared for her high school prom than reality TV. Dean finally regained control of his limbs and made a mad lunge toward the TV, turning it off just before the woman began handing out roses. He also managed to throw an entire pile of pants across the room in the process.

“Dean!” Cas looked up at him indignantly from his spot on the floor. "I was watching that."

“Cas, trust me, you don’t want to be watching that show, it’s garbage.” He said as he straightened up.

“I don't even know what it's about. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it. Who are you to decide my likes and dislikes?" Dean had no response because at the moment Cas stood to face him and they were definitely standing too close together. Dean tried not to breathe afraid Cas might get a face full of Cheeto breath. 

“Could you two old ladies stop bickering?” Sam interrupted from the bed, giving Dean a chance to take a step or seven backwards. “You know the apocalypse is coming whether Alexis gives away her last rose or not.”

Dean felt an uncomfortable lump rise in his throat. He could not think about this for the millionth time today. Trying to ease his own internal tension he tried firing back, "So tell me again Sam, how do you know the intricacies of The Bachelorette?"

Dean could have sworn he could see Sam rolling his eyes as he turned away.

 

 

The cacophony of creaking started up again and Dean didn't think he could take another night of this. Cas was sleeping on the spare cot, which had probably never been oiled in its existence and Dean's sleep was suffering for it. The past few nights had been the worst of his life. Life as a hunter made Dean accustomed to waking up at the slightest noise, so between Cas' constant movement, and the thoughts swirling around his head, Dean had gotten zero sleep. Sam had always been a heavy sleeper, something Dean had always been envious of, but right now he was just in awe. How could any human sleep through this racket? Then again, maybe all the demon blood in his system gave him extra sleeping powers too. Right now it sounded as if Cas were trying to squash the springs out the bottom of the mattress. Dean could not shut off his mind, the apocalypse was a day away, he was going to lose Sammy, Cas was human apparently, and the grief kept crashing over him in waves. He tried to act as normal about everything as possible, but his mind was his worst enemy at night.

That wasn't the only thing bothering him either, Dean kept replaying that afternoon's events through his mind. Cas' close proximity was nothing new, but Dean couldn't stop thinking about it. Cas had always just been _Cas._ He was Dean's best friend outside of his small family circle and Dean really depended on Cas for a lot of things. And, he realized, Cas relied on Dean too. Basically, what Dean was trying to make himself understand was that he cared for Cas much more that he once did... The thing he didn't understand was why now he was becoming uncomfortable in his presence. Perhaps it was the lack of angelic power. Seeing him as more of a man and less a alien creature.

Just then, Cas decided to roll over again, causing the cot to make an ungodly high-pitched squeaking sound.

"For the love of God, Cas!" Dean groaned, "Neither of us is going to be able to sleep while you're rolling around on that thing. Here," Dean said as he moved to get out of his bed, "switch me places."

"I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to wake you, I don't think this cot was actually intended for comfort." Cas apologized.

"Yeah, yeah, I wasn't gettin' much sleep anyways, just switch me beds."

Cas stood and made his way towards Dean's abandoned bed, clambering in gratefully. Dean slid onto the cot and pulled the blankets over his body, he could still feel the heat left by Cas' body, and he could also feel a gigantic spring poking into his side, how did Cas lay here for so long? Dean rolled over only to encounter a bar that nearly paralyzed his back. This was ridiculous, what kind of motel allowed their guests to use disabling cots? Shitty motels, that's who. After a full thirty minutes of mumbled profanities and horrendous screeching Cas called softly out to Dean.

"Dean, please, why can't we just share _this_ bed?"

"Fine but we're sleeping head to toe." Said Dean as he jumped off of the cot from Hell.

 

 

Dean woke to a soft clicking noise near his head. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but found he was trapped by a heavy limb draped over his chest and Cas' pinky toe poking his cheek. And he'd been worried about a little cheese breath? Sam stared down at them both clicking away with his camera phone, his hair rumpled from sleep. "Aww... you guys are too cute in the mornings." 

"SAM." Dean warned pushing fruitlessly against Cas' dead weight. "Wake UP Cas." He grunted. Cas groaned and managed to roll right off the bed, kicking Dean in the face as he went. 

"You alright?" Sam called down to him. Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over on his elbows rubbing his newly bruised face. 

"He's fine." snarled Dean, "Now delete those pictures."

"No no." Sam dangled his phone out of reach. "I get to keep these to remember you both by." Dean felt like his heart was breaking, but he managed a weak smile and shook his head. 

"Fine. You win." he acquiesced in an unusual depart from their regular banter.

Cas sat up and rested his chin on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry I am such an uncomfortable sleeping partner Dean." he apologized. Dean felt an uncomfortable flush in his face. He couldn't look at either of them. Cas with his sincere blue eyed apology, and Sam's twisted smile making him look like the Grinch on Christmas. 

"It's too goddamn early." He leapt off the bed. "I'm getting some coffee." 

 

 

 

 


	2. Aftermath

Dean struggled to open his eye, the one eye that wasn't swollen shut and congealed with blood and pus. He didn't want to open his eye, because he thought if he just squeezed it shut long enough, when he finally opened it again Sammy would magically jump out of the hole, and this whole apocalypse mess would turn out to be just a horrible nightmare. He couldn't really pretend it for long, not with his broken body pulsing in waves of pain and waning adrenaline. A reminder that it _had_ happened; he _had_ almost died trying to get Sam away from Michael and Lucifer, Castiel _had_ exploded in a gory mess just to his left, Bobby's neck _had_ snapped, and he was alone in a barely saved world.

Finally he forced his eye open but instead of glimpsing the graveyard, his sight was assailed by two fingers coming straight at his forehead. Startled, Dean went cross-eyed and fell back clumsily from his knees onto his ass. The cool fingers pressed against his head and Dean let his eyes close again. The pain in his body seemed to dissipate. He could breathe without feeling the creak of broken ribs. He could close his eyes and pretend a little longer.

There was a new smell. Something soap-like and distinctly clean. He let both his eyes drift open again to see who had miraculously healed him. A woman stood before him wearing a nun's religious habit. He knew he had never seen her before, but there was something familiar about her as well. The taut set of her narrow shoulders, the worried crease between the dark eyebrows, the stoic frown.

Dean didn't know how he knew, but he knew. “Cas?” he croaked.

“Dean.” the woman confirmed reaching out a hand to pull Dean up. Dean used her hand to stagger to his feet, patting the places where he had been pretty terribly injured moments before. “But you were gone.” he said, “You exploded.”

“Jimmy's vessel exploded.” Cas corrected him. Her voice was a deep melodic murmur, not unlike the low gravelly voice he was used to, just more feminine. “I felt some of my grace returning so I used the last of it to escape and find a new vessel.” Dean noticed the sweat shining on her forehead. “I just used the rest to...” her voice was now becoming breathy and hoarse, “I could only heal you. I'm...” she trailed off, “I'm sorry.” Suddenly Cas dropped like a rag doll, totally unconscious. Dean nearly missed catching the shoulders, still expecting them to be the same width as Jimmy's. He quickly checked for a pulse. Once satisfied Cas wasn't dead for the second time in a matter of minutes, Dean tried to think.

Cas' healing seemed to fill him with an extra shot of adrenaline and Dean knew what he had to do. On instinct he tugged the back of the nun's legs into his arms and carried Cas' new vessel to the Impala. He opened the passenger door and laid her down on the seat. Dean slammed the car door and the sound seemed to echo around the empty graveyard, ricocheting off trees and tombstones.

Hurriedly he opened the trunk, and went over to get Bobby. He lugged the lifeless body into his arms and carried him back to the trunk. Bobby was much heavier than Cas' new meat-suit, and a lot more disgusting still being splattered with bits of Jimmy Novak. After laying him down as if sleeping in the trunk, Dean shrugged off his jacket and used it to wipe away the gore from Bobby's face and arms. He threw the jacket in with the corpse and shut the trunk.

Dean's mind was skipping ahead, like a jumpy record, only thinking of the physical tasks he had ahead of him. He surveyed the graveyard. The only remnant of the averted apocalypse were the four rings which had melded together. Dean bent to retrieve them from the dry grass. He felt their weight in his hand as his eyes swept over the now ordinary looking cemetery. He couldn't stop to think. He wasn't sure what would happen to him if he did, so Dean did the next thing that made sense. He jumped in the Impala, jamming the car into drive. He had to get out of here. His car bucked over the uneven ground out to the main road. He made it to the border of Michigan in record time.

 

Dean finally managed to slow down a little after stopping for gas. If he was stopped by a cop now it was going to be near impossible to explain the unconscious nun next to him and the body in the trunk. He tried to imagine how he would explain it all away.

_Look officer, it's not what you think. I didn't drug this poor nun and drive away with her... Of course not... She just... fell asleep. I'm helping her escape the convent. Why is there a body in my trunk? Well that's a funny story..._

The fantasy story was going pretty well until Dean imagined Sam trying to wheedle out of the situation with him. _Please, officer could you hurry? We all need to get home and finish the Bachelorette finale._

Dean began laughing hysterically which was probably the scariest thing he'd ever heard coming out of his mouth. His vision started to go dark around the edges, and he was starting to feel like he might pass out. After trying to focus on the yellow lines on the road for a moment he pulled the car off to the side of the road and put it in park. Before he knew what was happening his head was in his arms on the steering wheel and hot tears were burning their way down his cheeks.

He decided to count this as one of the lowest points in his life. Sam was... He couldn't think it. Sam was gone. He hadn't even had time to process Bobby's death. Just thrown him in the trunk and blazed down the highway like he was on some kind of demented road trip. He wasn't even sure Cas was still here. For all he knew, Dean was toting around some half-alive hijacked nun while his angel, his best friend was blinked out of existence from the exertion of healing him. He was glad he decided to put Cas up front though, since the thought of the seat next to him being empty made the hole in his chest hurt even worse. Slowly he was able to calm his breathing. He wiped a hand over his face and in an effort to distract himself, started examining this new vessel Cas had gotten.

The nun lay slumped next to him, boneless with her head next to his thigh. She seemed to be about the same size physically as Jo had been, though obviously more mature. There were a few crows feet starting around her eyes, and even as vulnerable as she looked unconscious, she seemed dignified somehow. The coloring was so like the old Cas, Dean wondered vaguely if the angel had a type, so to speak. Pale skin stood out sharply next to the dark brown eyebrows, the heavy habit, and the purplish circles under her eyes. A dark brown curl was escaping from the crooked wimple covering her head. As if aware of his scrutiny, she began twitching and then slowly her eyes opened to stare back at him. Her eyes were even blue, though not the blue Dean had come to expect. They were lighter, almost green. Dean couldn't speak. Afraid if he tried, his voice would break.  
“Where are we Dean?” Internally Dean blew out a relieved breath. At least Cas hadn't disappeared on him. She struggled to sit up, wincing at what Dean could only assume was a very sore neck.

He sat back against the seat and sighed. Willing himself to have more control than he had a moment ago.  
“The middle of nowhere.” then he tacked on, “I'm driving to Bobby's. He's gotta have a hunters funeral.” Cas' new eyes asked the question Dean knew the angel wanted confirmed. “Yeah. Bobby's dead. Lucifer snapped his neck.” His friend lowered her gaze.

“I'm sorry. I would have saved him if I had the strength.”

“I know Cas.”

Dean's throat felt like it was closing up. He had promised himself he wasn't going to cry, but it seemed he was about to break that promise. Just like he broke his promise to save Sam. He couldn't look up at Cas. It wasn't as if it was the first time he ever cried in front of the angel, but he just couldn't face his own weakness. He didn't want to see his own pain reflected there. He felt more warm tears leak down his face, and gave a wet gasp as he suddenly felt himself tugged into Cas' arms. He buried his face in the narrow shoulder and felt small arms clasp around his back. Dean had never known Castiel to hug people. Perhaps it was all the TV they had been watching, or maybe she just instinctively knew the kind of human connection Dean needed. Whatever the reason, Dean found himself sobbing into a new, unfamiliar shoulder, while Cas' now tiny hands slowly moved soothingly up and down his back. He couldn't stop crying, and they didn't start driving again until night covered the road and the sun had sunk away.

 

Bobby's house looked the same as it always had; as if there hadn't been an apocalypse, and Dean was just dropping by to help on a hunt. Unfortunately the truth of the situation was far more grim. Together Dean and Cas lugged Bobby's body out of the trunk and built a funeral pyre in the backyard. If Dean wasn't so exhausted with grief he might have smiled at the sight of an angel of the lord dressed as a nun lugging around huge logs in the dark. As it was, he didn't smile. He didn't even cry. Dean simply stood by and watched as Bobby was slowly consumed with bright flames. Together he and Cas sat on the back porch shivering in silence. They watched the flames subside with the early morning sunlight.


	3. Fainting Spell

                Dean blinked. He was in Bobby’s library thumbing through an old book on cursed objects. He snapped it shut and leaned back against the chair he was in. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten here. The past few days he moved like he was sleepwalking. He felt numb and cold and distant. Slowly he massaged his temples. He didn’t like these lucid moments. When he was in a daze he was able to mechanically work through ordinary motions, brushing his teeth, cleaning his guns. When he felt aware like he did now, he was more likely to be bowled over with grief. It hit him suddenly and without warning like the other day when he had been looking out of a window. He had remembered Sam standing in the same spot, doing the same thing only months earlier and lost it.

Dean didn’t cry when the grief hit him, only felt the hole in his chest ache painfully, felt his mind assailed by memories and turning emotions of guilt, loss, anger and desperation.

“I was wondering where you were.” Dean looked up at the unfamiliar voice. Cas stood in the doorway, her hands clutching the frame. Dean still wasn’t used to this new appearance. The first day here he had nearly attacked her, thinking Cas was a stranger. “Dean. I need help. Something’s wrong with this vessel.” Cas moved gingerly over to another chair and sunk into it slowly. She really didn’t look good. Sweat stood out on her forehead, and her pale skin was a sickly gray color. She was wearing some old sweatpants of Bobby’s and a more feminine cut t-shirt that had once belonged to Bobby’s wife, Karen. Dean had found a box filled with her things up in the attic.

The first night back Dean had been rummaging in Bobby’s dresser looking for an old shirt bobby might not mind if Cas used. Then Dean had realized while digging, Bobby wasn’t there to care what clothes used anyway. That had been the first widening of the hole in his chest. Stumbling back from the open drawer he had thrown the clothes at a still nun-looking Cas and collapsed on the couch. He didn’t move for a whole day. Dean shook himself and tried to focus on the half-angel before him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Do you feel sick?” Cas pushed a stray lock of long dark hair behind her ear. It was slightly damp and curly with sweat.

“I feel more… weak.” She said, wiping her forehead. “Should we eat something? I was just remembering… humans require fuel…” Cas trailed off, her eyes unfocused on the bookshelf behind him.

Dean felt a trickle of guilt run through his center. He’d forgotten to eat? It had been two days since the apocalypse and he barely remembered doing anything other than sleep. He felt a gnawing sensation in his gut. Maybe half of the hole he felt growing in him was just simple hunger. He pulled himself off the chair, went over to Cas, and touched her forehead. It felt clammy. Dean grasped her hand and pulled her up.

“C’mon. We gotta get something in you.” Cas let him lead her into the kitchen, her feet shuffling slowly.

“Wait.” Cas said. Dean felt her slick hand slide out of his.

“What is it?” he turned to look back at her. Cas’ face was terrified, and her breathing had become shallow and labored.

“My ears aren’t working. Dean?” She groped out blindly toward him. Dean grabbed her shoulders and forced her back against the wall in the hallway and pushed her down.

“Sit down. Here.” He sat down next to her and nudged the back of her neck down. Her face was pouring sweat now. “Put your head between your knees.” Cas obeyed, bending over herself. “You gonna pass out on me again?” he asked. Cas gulped and shook her head. “That’s good. That’s a good girl.” Dean flinched. He wasn’t sure what made him say that.

“Just breathe. In and out.” Dean tried to mimic breathing along with Cas. He moved his hand from her neck and brushed it through the nun’s wavy dark hair once. “You okay, man?” Cas’ breathing finally began to settle and slowly she sat up, her spine rigidly straight against the wallpaper. Using her arm, she wiped the remaining rivulets of sweat off her face.

“I’m no longer a man Dean.” Cas turned to face him. Dean managed a weak smile.

“I know. It’s just an expression.” Cas’ face remained impassive, unamused. Dean stood up. “You stay here. I’m going to get you some food.” Cas made a move to stand. “No. You stay.” Dean barked. “If you stand up and the blood can’t get to your head again, you might actually lose consciousness.” Cas blinked then nodded.

The two of them ate sandwiches facing each other on the cramped hallway floor. Dean picked at the bread. The crust was slightly stale. Cas didn’t seem to notice though, she was starting in on her second sandwich. “Cas?” he rasped suddenly. Cas looked up, chewing steadily. “Cas. I’m sorry. I should’ve taken care of you.” Dean took a breath, “And instead I practically starved you.” She shook her head and swallowed. Wavy curls fell dangerously close to the mustardy sandwich in her hand.

“No. It’s my fault. I should have remembered the food. You are grieving.” Her light blue eyes bored into his. Dean turned away.

“I just…” he stopped short, “I just don’t think I can go on without him.” Dean felt thin fingers brush his wrist.

“Then let’s find a way to get him back.” Dean raised his eyes to meet Cas’ sincere ones.

“Okay.” Dean choked out.

 

                Dean had gone to bed at six that evening too tired and worn out emotionally to deal with being conscious any longer. Going to bed proved to be fruitless as he kept waking up every hour, tossing and turning all night. At around three in the morning, the ninth time he’d woken up that night, Dean heard the door to the spare room he was currently “sleeping” in open. Cas stepped soundlessly into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her slight frame was barely visible, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Dean rolled from his back to his side to face her.

“Is that you Cas? ‘S late.”

Cas slipped quietly toward the bed and sat on the edge, defeated.

“I’m sorry Dean, I’m unused to sleeping. It makes me feel vulnerable.”

Dean blew out a long breath, “Are you afraid of sleeping in your room by yourself?” He could see Cas bob her head up and down.

“Here,” said Dean as he slid over, making more room, “sleep with me then, I won’t even make you lay head to toe.” Cas hesitated, then twisted to slide under the blankets.

For a moment it was awkward. Dean tried not to move at all. He felt Cas adjust on the mattress imperceptibly. He could feel heat radiating from her side of the bed. It was nice. Trying not to think too much about what was happening; he slowly started to breathe normally. It didn’t take much longer for him to fall asleep.

 


	4. Waking Up

        Castiel awoke with a shudder. Her arms had come uncovered in the night and now she was chilled all over. She glanced over to the other side of the bed. Dean had already gotten up. As she tucked her arms back under the comforter, she shifted against the pillow. The bed seemed even colder now. 

Did Dean regret asking her to stay the night? Perhaps he never expected she would accept his offer. Castiel wondered what made her think she could in the first place. Sure, they had shared a bed once before, but maybe her new vessel made it awkward for him. The truth was Castiel found sleeping extremely difficult, and last night had been very satisfying. The past few days she hadn't been able to at all. Mostly she stayed awake at night, researching in some of Bobby's books for anything that might have to do with healing angels, watching Dean's chest slowly rise and fall as he slept on the couch. With nearly a full night's sleep under her metaphorical belt, Castiel felt much better. It was easy to understand the expression “sleep it off” now. The pounding headache was gone, and the ache in her limbs had almost disappeared. It was like an angelic healing, but all it took was a little more time and rest. Castiel stared at the ceiling willing herself to get up and leave the warm spot in the guest bed. 

In the end, Castiel managed to reluctantly leave the bed for a warm shower. Water steamed over her head, trickled down her spine and pooled near her feet before being swept down the drain. Castiel liked showers, almost as much as she liked sleep. It was like all worries could be forgotten for a few hours. And Castiel had quite a lot of worries at present. 

They all ranged from things like what she had been missing in heaven. How the archangels had organized after the apocalypse and Micheal leaving. To other things like Dean's depression and whether or not she should have just left him alone. Sam had asked he seek out a normal life, presumably with the ready-made wife and suburban life Dean had with Lisa, but Castiel just hadn't been able to leave him alone. She could have taken this vessel, stayed at the convent until her strength had returned and gone back to heaven. Dean would've been able to work it out. Perhaps she shouldn't have suggested they look for a way to bring Sam back. It was a foolish hope, and even if Castiel managed to find the cage, would she even be able to break in? Dean was her weakness. She couldn't just desert him, couldn't deny him the one thing that might make things normal for him. Castiel shook herself. It was no use thinking like this. She had made her choice. 

The most pressing of her worries right now though was how she was ever going to be able to heal. Castiel still felt weak, her grace wasn't completely depleted, but it was getting harder to feel. She also wasn’t sure how long this semi-human state would last. At the best times she could catch snatches of angel radio, and if she concentrated very, very hard she was almost able to grasp her blade. She tried now, as the shower continued to rain drops against her skin. Her hand could nearly close around it. Just before she pressed to the metal, Castiel felt her fingers skim thin air. Trying to use heavenly powers drained her. She grabbed the soap ledge to keep herself steady. When she felt weak like this she could feel other things. She could feel the soul of the body she had taken over. Just then she was struck by an idea. If the nun could take control of the body, perhaps it would allow Castiel more time to recover, like sleeping did, then once she had enough strength she could search for Sam.

 _Catherine_. Castiel tried. _Catherine can you hear me?_

 _Are you the angel?_ Castiel could barely hear her tiny voice inside her head. She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on the soul burning dimly.

 _Catherine, do you think you can take control of your body while I’m still here?_ Castiel waited, holding her breath, and vainly attempting to flatten all the existing angelic presence inside Catherine’s mind. Finally the nun answered.

 _I’m trying, but I don’t think there’s any way. You’re too strong_. Castiel let out a sigh in defeat. _Though, I thought I saw an opening while you were asleep._ Castiel blinked.

That might work. _Next time I’m asleep try to take control. I need time to heal, and it would be easier when I’m not conscious._

 _I’ll try._ Catherine’s voice came in quieter, like a radio tuning out to soft static. Castiel pulled the shower lever and stepped out on the bathmat. Perhaps she could convince Dean to sleep next to her again. It would be much easier to sleep when she could relax, and one of the only ways that was going to happen was if she knew Dean was safe.

 

Castiel dried off and dressed in some gray slacks of Karen’s and a loose black tank top, since she had warmed up considerably from the shower. She wasn’t totally sure what to do with her wet hair though. Maybe Catherine would have some more information on hygiene. Castiel tried to search for her, but now that she felt stronger Catherine’s soul was nowhere to be found. In the end, Castiel found a brush and pulled it through the wet tangles, then leaving the bathroom she went in search of Dean. She felt empty now she could no longer feel Dean’s presence all the time. She poked her head in a few rooms on her way to the front of the house. She found Dean outside loading a bag into the Impala.

“Going somewhere?” Dean jumped and looked up at her standing near the door.

“Yeah. I’m going to get more information. And probably some groceries so we can both stay alive.”

“Information?” Castiel felt her vessel’s heart begin to speed up.

Dean’s brow was furrowed in a way Castiel knew couldn’t mean anything good. “If I can just get a crossroads demon to come, maybe they can tell me more about the cage and how to get Sam out of there.”

“No. You can’t.” Castiel stepped toward him. “It’s too dangerous, and they won’t be willing to do any deals with you. Not now.”

“I think you’re underestimating what kind of prize my soul might be worth to them.” Dean smirked and turned back to the car.

“Wait. I’m coming too.” Castiel moved to step off the porch but found her way blocked as Dean clapped a hand onto her bare shoulder.

“No. You’re powerless right now, and I’m not going to put you in danger.”

“You can’t do this Dean! Who knows what might happen. I can’t let you go.” Castiel felt her voice break.

“You can’t stop me either.” He gazed back at her, his green eyes slightly apologetic. Then he was gone, moving to get inside the car. Castiel heard the engine turn and tried to run, but instead tripped on the edge of her too long pants. She felt hard on one knee and watched as the dark car turned off the drive.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thank you so much for reading this, it means a lot! We're trying to update this once a week just so you know... Thanks again!


	5. Angels and Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know I said I'd post once a week and I totally didn't for this chapter but hopefully since school is out and summer is not so busy I'll be able to keep up. Love you all, thanks for reading!!

                Dean knew Cas was going to be pissed when he got back, Dean also knew his plan wasn’t the smartest, but the hole in his chest threatened to get wider unless he was actively doing something to try and get Sammy back. The Impala bumped and kicked as he slowed to a stop on the gravel road, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Dean stepped out of his car and walked around to the trunk taking out a small tin box which contained one of his old I.D. cards and a few other possessions, leaving the trunk open. He turned, walking to the center of the crossroads and bent down to start digging a shallow hole.

Once he’d finished burying the box, Dean stood up and turned around, brushing the dust off of his jeans.

“Well if it isn’t Dean Winchester.”

Dean whirled around, he hated how they always managed to appear behind him no matter how many times he spun around. Across from him stood a curvy woman, almost a head shorter than him with shoulder length reddish gold hair. She wore a plain black dress that revealed a lot of shoulder, she looked like the type of woman Dean would’ve tried to seduce if it wasn’t for the gleam of red in her eyes.

“Yeah, well I don’t see why that’s such a surprise,” said Dean, “aren’t Sam and I like your guys’ number one customer?”

She just smirked. “So what can I do for you today Mr. Winchester?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

 

 

Castiel was freaking out. She’d been pacing Bobby’s library for the past twenty minutes. Dean was going to sell his soul, Castiel didn’t think him capable of anything less, and it scared her to death. She couldn’t seem to get used to this new body. It was so much smaller. Her movements jerkier more contained. And now she felt like it was closing in on her, lungs working double time to keep from shrinking. She gasped and rubbed a hand over her feverish forehead. If Dean sold his soul, who would save him? Heaven had no divine plan anymore. The Winchester brothers had made sure of that.

Her breathing had taken on a new intensity, deep sucking gasps and ugly dry sobs. They ripped through her chest like flashing angel blades. It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake to give Dean any hope of getting Sam back. Castiel drew her hands up and down her arms, trying to calm down. Slowly her sobs began to stutter to a halt. Gasping and clutching her arms, Castiel tried to get a grip. If Dean did manage to make a deal, it would take a few years or at least a few months before they took him. Enough time for Castiel to more fully heal and figure a way out of this mess. Most likely demons wouldn’t show anyway. After the apocalypse there was no telling who was in charge down there. Getting souls wouldn’t be a priority.

Castiel found herself reaching for the rosary she had left on the library table. Holding and counting the beads made her feel calm, vestiges of Catherine’s religious habits. Finally Castiel was able to pull in three large breaths, letting out the air slowly. Her fingers continued circling a familiar path along the cross.

 

 

“You want your brother back,” she sneered, “and you think you’re going to sell your soul for him.”

“I _know_ I’m going to sell my soul. That’s how it works right? My soul for his.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” she said starting to circle him.

“Excuse me?” Dean was starting to feel his blood boil, “You’re a crossroads demon, this is your fuckin’ job!”

“And taking things out of Lucifer’s cage isn’t in my job description.”

Dean wanted to yell; instead he took a deep breath and slowly counted to five. For Sam’s sake and for the sake of getting back to Cas in one piece he needed to keep a cool head.

“Then tell me another way I can get my brother back.” Dean wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“You think I hold the answers to the universe?” she said, exasperated.

“You know a lot more than you let on, that’s for sure. There has to be another way to break someone out of the cage.”

“Even if there was, I wouldn’t tell _you_ , I’m not suicidal.”

“Right.” Dean was starting to stall, if she wasn’t going to give him the information willingly he needed to get her closer to him. He could hear Sam berating him for his lack of serious planning.

“So…” Dean needed to come up with something fast, “Could I still get that kiss?” What?! No, no, no! What was he saying?

“What?” the demon looked at him like he had sprouted four extra arms. Dean stalked forward, slowly at first, and once he could see the red glimmer around her irises, he lunged forward raking Ruby’s knife up the demon’s arm. Luckily she hadn’t sensed it hidden up his sleeve. Howling with pain she smacked Dean’s shoulder, sending him reeling back into the Impala. Perfect. He waited for her to come to him. Just as she drew back for another hit, he rolled sideways, forcing her down into the devil’s trap lining the trunk.

“There.” Dean huffed, feeling triumphant. “Got you.” Her only response was to snarl back at him, half sitting in the trunk. “Well, as long as I’ve got you here, you won’t mind answering a few questions. Will you?”

“Good luck with that.” She snorted. Dean just turned around and began drawing another devil’s trap in the dirt. He couldn’t risk getting blood on the Impala. Once Dean had finished the tracing he threw the stick he used to the side and turned back to the crossroads demon.

“Don’t worry, Alistair taught me a few things.” He carefully began to tie her arms and legs together with the spare rope from the trunk. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes before she had time to smooth her face into a neutral expression. Dean carried the demon bridal style to the center of the devil’s trap and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground.

“Do you have anything to say yet or can I get started?” Dean asked. She only glared up at him.

“Alrighty then.” Dean turned and grabbed the supplies he needed from his car, he hated to do this, resort back to torturing, but unfortunately it was the best way to get answers. Dean walked back slowly, carrying an array of knives with some holy water and salt. He laid it out in front of the demon, picking up what he thought would be most useful.

“You just let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Dean then wrenched the demon’s head back, dumping the salt down her throat.

 

 

               


	6. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just really sorry this took so long to update. Summer... y'know? Anyway, this is pretty short, but hopefully will lead to a little more regularity in updates.

      When Dean arrived back at Bobby’s Castiel was prepared. Being so close to human left her vulnerable to the swiftly changing emotions, and unused to them, she was easily swept up in their strength. But not now; now she was in control. She felt like she had in Jimmy’s body, calm, neutral, unaffected. Of course, once Dean entered the room, Castiel felt hackles rise on her neck. She was still mad at him. Shaking it off, and channeling what was left of her angelic strength she stood up from her seat at the kitchen table.

“You left me.” Dean frowned at the accusation pulling his gear out of the bag. “What was I supposed to do had something gone wrong?” He sighed.

“Nothing happened. Okay? I’m fine. You’re fine, and now we’ve got someplace to start.”

“What did you find out?”

“All we need is to find a legitimate gate. Open it.” Dean hesitated, cleared his throat and continued, “And pass through the levels of hell. Apparently the cage is at the bottom.” He finished lamely. Castiel stared. Had he sold his soul for this information? Made a deal? Tortured it out of a demon? It seemed to stupidly simple, and yet world-crushingly impossible at the same time.

“But Dean,” Castiel tried, “It means all the layers of hell. No human could make it through them all, not to mention get back out.”

Dean straightened up facing her for the first time. “That’s where you come in. You’re an angel aren’t you?” Castiel felt tears prick threateningly behind her eyes, an annoying reminder of what she really was.

“Not anymore.” She managed to keep a steady voice. “I’m broken.”

Dean paused then stepped forward, grabbing the back of her neck, his other calloused hand on her shoulder. “You have to get better.”

Castiel struggled against his grip, trying to move away from his burning green eyes. “You have to do this for me. I don’t even care if I don’t make the return trip. If I die, at least I’ll die trying.” Castiel finally pushed free of Dean’s intense hold, then shoved him as hard as she could. Dean stumbled back, a look of surprise on his face.

“Do you even realize who I am?” she seethed. “What you’re asking me? Me. The angel who pulled you from hell.” Her voice dropped to a familiar rumble as she advanced on him. “You think after everything. Michael, the apocalypse, everything I sacrificed, that’d I would just drop you in the pit again?” Dean was now forced up against the dividing wall in the kitchen. “You don’t get to jerk me around Dean Winchester. You want a suicide mission? Fine.” The window nearest Dean exploded, raining down glittering shards of glass. Castiel felt a satisfied flare as he instinctively ducked to cover his head. “But you can count me out.”

As she had done so many times before, Castiel went to raise her wings, the flash of power making her feel strong and angelic again. Though as she spread wings wide, the world seemed to tip and pitch, like standing on a great waving ocean. The last thing she saw were Dean’s eyes wide with fear and wonder. The next sight was only black.

 

Castiel woke to find herself lying in the dirt, the world tipped on its side.  
“Cas? Cas. My god, you alright?” Dean’s running footfalls thudded to a halt. He wasted no time hauling her limp body up into his arms. Grunting, he explained what happened as they trudged toward a house in the distance, Dean babbling at a hundred miles a minute. “You tried to zap away, Cas. But it sounded weird. Not like wings, more like tearing paper, you know?” Cas struggled in his arms until taking the hint he set her down. “Can you walk?”

“I’m perfectly capable, yes.” Castiel moved to go, but ended up stumbling, helped up slightly by his arm.

“Let me help you. Here.” Dean wrapped an arm around her waist, and then continued with his story as they moved gingerly together. “After that, you were gone. But I saw this flash of light outside the window and you fell from nowhere. Just fell into that weed patch behind Bobby’s.”

Castiel felt Dean peering at her, trying to discern if she was still mad at him. After her humiliating flight to get away though, she felt properly chastised. They continued on in silence. Once they reached the house, Dean spun Castiel to face him.

“Cas, what’s going on? What happened back there?” he grimaced then closed his eyes before plunging into the next sentence. “Look, I know I’m not one to open up about feelings and shit, and you’re the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met, except Rufus of course… But we’ve gotta talk to each other. I promise to keep you informed on all future demon meetings, and you’ve got to promise to let me know what’s going on with you.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. Then sighing, she took a seat on the steps leading to the house. “I’ve become very damaged Dean.” She began slowly. “The sigil I drew on my chest those weeks ago should have killed me. Instead I was left here, grace depleted, broken wings, half-human in an unfamiliar vessel.” Dean took a seat next to her. “I was in the process of healing when I managed to find this body. It interrupted my progress switching so suddenly into a new vessel while I was regaining grace, and now I’m scared I’ll never get better.” She drew a shuddering breath. It was the first time she had admitted aloud how frightened she was. Dean’s eyebrows were drawn up in worry.

“You should’ve told me Cas.” He said quietly. Castiel looked down and was surprised to find Dean putting his hand lightly over her own. Comfort through physical touch she recognized. Gently, she weaved her fingers into his and continued to sit in silence, staring out at the yard together. “So…” Dean began again, and Castiel noted the change in his tone was an effort to lighten the mood. “What’s it like being a girl?” She glanced at his half-joking face.

“I actually see remarkably little difference between the genders. They feel the same to me, just with different souls.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?”

Castiel nodded. “There are some physiological differences I suppose, but everything else feels the same to me.” She shrugged. “Does it…” she hesitated “does it bother you? Me, being female I mean?” Dean squeezed her hand.

“Nah. Not really. I think you’re still… you.” Then he stood up, pulling her up with him. “It’s getting dark. You should get some rest.” Castiel let him lead her up to her bedroom.

“Can I stay with you?” she asked.

Dean blinked, and then nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks.” Castiel thought about explaining how much easier it was to sleep next to another person. How much calmer it made her feel, but in the end it didn’t seem to matter. Dean led her away into his room without question.


	7. Healing

      Cas was getting better every day. Dean felt weirdly proud, like he was somehow responsible for the angel’s progress. She slept a lot, more than Dean had ever seen a person sleep. But then, he had to remind himself, this was more of a recovering angel and less of a human anyway. When Dean wasn’t checking to make sure she hadn’t died in her sleep, he was researching.

He liked the routine of it all. The strange half-life he and Cas had carved out of necessity; looking for an answer in dusty tomes, planning for a dangerous adventure, and actively doing something kept his mind from wandering, and the grief from overtaking him. In the mornings he left her to sleep for a few more hours and worked on what he like to think of as “human duties”: making food, paying bills, and arranging Bobby’s affairs. His will had left pretty much everything to him and Sam, excepting a few specific items to other hunters. Dean had settled most big things with the lawyer already. The house was legally his, and everyone in the neighborhood thought he and Cas were a couple, living together until the affairs were sorted out.

After paying the bills and getting the coffee going, Dean hit the books, learning about Hell, the gates and the keys to each level, and basically how to survive the suicide rescue mission. Castiel had already told him what she thought they were going to face down there. Each level sounded more dreadful than the last. Today he was in the library hunting through a stack of books looking for any way into another level.

Cas was asleep again. This time she had simply dropped off at the kitchen table after breakfast, rather than walk back up the stairs to the bedroom. Feeling a little guilty, he had left her there, face smashed on her folded arms. He finally threw aside the apparently useless book, and jumped when the floorboards creaked near the door. Without turning around, he grabbed another off the stack before saying, “That was a quick nap. You wanna help in here?”

“Um… Excuse me.” The voice was high-pitched. Not Castiel’s. He looked warily at the doorway. Cas stood there, a confused expression on her face.

“Cas?” It definitely looked like the one he has left snoozing next to the cereal bowl, but then again, she didn’t. Something was off about the light blue eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said again. “Can you tell me where I am?” Dean balked.

“Castiel? Is Castiel in there?” the woman nodded.

“Yes. The angel’s still here. He told me to become conscious.”

“He?” Dean spluttered. What was happening here? “You’re the nun.”

She nodded again. “My name’s sister Catherine.”

“Catherine. Hi.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Oh, you are?” Catherine said in surprise. “You look different in person.”

Dean twitched. In person? “Do I know you?”

“Oh, it’s just I’ve only seen you through the angel’s mind. He sees you a little differently.” Not knowing what to do, Dean sat down.

“Why don’t you come in? Um, have a seat.” She smiled shyly before coming over to a chair near the desk. “Is Cas okay?” Dean managed to ask.

“Yes. He’s just trying to rest. He thought this might be easier.”

“Huh.” He blinked.

“Where are we?”

“South Dakota.”

“Oh.” Her eyes traveled the room.

“When you say “he”…” He stared intently at her.

The nun blanched, waving her hands around. “Oh, I just mean he seems like a man. I don’t know if angels assign genders.”

Dean laughed nervously. “Must be weird for you.”

“You can’t imagine.” She shook her head, a look of wonder on her face. “It’s been like a dream. One minute I think I’m doing the lord’s work, hosting an angel in my own body, and the next I’m commanded to wake up in a kitchen in South Dakota.”

“Well,” he shrugged vaguely. “Angels, you know. They just… do what they can.”

Catherine forced a smile, pretending to follow what gibberish he was saying. “Is this your house Dean?” her eyes lingered on the stack of books. The top one read _Hell, Heresy, and the Occult_.

“No. I mean, yeah.” Dean fumbled stupidly, “I guess it is. It belonged to my… uncle. He passed away recently, and I inherited it.”

“I’m sorry about your uncle.” She said sincerely. “Is that why the angel is with you? Is Castiel your guardian or something?”

“My, uh…” Dean had never felt so out of place. It looked like he was talking to Castiel, but he kept having to remind himself she was the nun now. “No. I mean, I guess he is. Right now, it feels like I’m more of his guardian.” He noticed slipping into the male pronouns she was using.

“He’s been injured.” She said it matter-of-factly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Catherine sat back giving him a strange piercing stare. “I’ve got time. And I’ve got a lot of questions.”

 

Catherine seemed to be staying for a while. After telling her the insane, involved tale of what had become of his life, she had decided to shower and pray. It was an odd experience, baring all to a total stranger, and a stranger who seemed to understand, or at the very least, not flinch when he mentioned things like hell gates, demons, and the apocalypse. Dean picked up the book he had been meaning to read right before the nun’s interruption. There was no way he was going to be able to focus now. What was Castiel doing? Having her take over the body was doubtless saving him energy, and allowing the angel to heal. Dean realized the only thing he could do was just trust that Castiel knew what he was doing.

Dinner that night had all the awkwardness of a first date, without the small reward of being able to go their separate ways afterwards.

“You like tomatoes sister?” Dean asked, watching her sprinkle salt over some raw slices. She ate a lot more than Cas ever did.

Catherine nodded, pulling over the cutting board to slice another. “I’m starving. Does the angel ever feed… my body?”

Dean chuckled as she searched for the appropriate wording. “Sometimes. I have to remind him a lot. Castiel tends to forget human needs. I’m sure your shower was overdue as well.”

The sister smiled and salted more tomatoes. “So you and your brother always lived together?” She asked before taking a bite.

“Pretty much. He wasn’t exactly enamored with this kind of life though.” Dean spread some salsa over his burrito. “Ran away a lot.” After chewing for a moment, he added, “And he was at school for a while, at Stanford.” Dean felt a familiar sweep of pride thinking about his brother. After grieving for him for so long, talking about him felt good, cathartic almost. And if his last-ditch plan worked, he would see Sam again soon.

Night brought some awkward questions.  
“Is there only one bed?” Catherine asked as Dean led the way upstairs.

“What? No. I’ll take you to the guest room. It’s just down the hall.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He could hear the relief in her voice. “Through the angel, I only knew of the one.” She laughed nervously. Dean blushed, wondering what else the nun could see through Castiel’s mind.

 

Early the next morning Dean woke up to a gray-golden light falling in through a gap in his curtain. He lay still for a while in the cold, empty bed, listening to the birds getting up with the sun. He felt utterly alone. Sam was gone, Bobby was gone, Cas was gone, and even Jimmy, his old vessel was gone. Perhaps it would’ve been better if Dean had died as well. If Castiel had been destroyed with his vessel, and eventually Dean succumbed to his injuries, then the apocalypse would be complete. The new world he and Sam created would go on, spinning away without them.

The empty feeling seemed to come from deep within, circling around him like a vulture until he was paralyzed. When he finally managed to sit up, and pull off the blankets, the sun had risen far above the horizon, turning from pale gold to a violent orange.

After eating and doing some half-hearted exercises and research, Dean poked his head into Castiel’s room. She was still sleeping. This angel healing was apparently the most exhausting thing a human body could undertake.

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, then quietly crossed the room and sat on the end of Bobby’s old box-spring bed. In sleep he couldn’t tell if Catherine or Castiel was behind the relaxed face. It was easy for him to tell them apart when awake. Something about the way Catherine was relaxed and comfortable, while the angel held the body like a stiff mannequin, and spoke in richer, deeper tones. They were definitely different.

The nun stirred, shifting slightly under the covers without waking up. Dean scooted around and took her hand in both of his own.

“Cas? Um… Castiel? I don’t know if you can hear me, but I just… I…” Dean stopped. His throat felt as if it were gummed up. Tears threatened his tired eyes. Vision blurred, he gulped as the woman before him sat up slowly. One look at the pale face and blue eyes, and he knew it was Cas. Blinking back the embarrassing moisture, he felt himself pulled into a tight hug. It was the second he’d received from her. He settled his arms around her, as small hands smoothed his shoulders. The empty feeling that had been consuming him all morning seemed to seep away.

Together they held each other for a few minutes. Cas lay her head on his chest, and Dean tucked his chin over her brown curls. Faintly, he became aware she was shaking in his arms, crying.

“Cas.” He whispered, “What’s wrong?”

She took a shuddering breath, muffled by his old flannel shirt. “I’m sorry Dean. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he rubbed her back, keeping her face turned into his chest. Hot tears soaked through the fabric. It was totally freaking him out. This was Cas. The being of light that had shoved him against an alley wall and promised him destiny. And now he was comforting that same angel as she cried.

“I’m supposed to take care of you… and I can’t even take care of myself.” Dean shook his head, strands of the nun’s hair tickling his neck.

“No. We’re a team. We take care of each other.” He was reminded forcefully of saying something similar to Sam when he was a kid. Gasping a little with leftover sobs, Cas pulled apart. He left his hand on her shoulder as she wiped away tears. Even with red, tear-ringed eyes, even with an old baggy nightgown on, even with a different face entirely, Dean could see Castiel. He could see the angel behind the human, and it was familiar and beautiful. “Do you feel better Cas? After getting a break for a while yesterday?” He asked to break the silence.

“Yes.” She sniffed. “I feel much better. And though I may never see heaven again, I think soon I’ll have enough power to get us to hell.” She smiled weakly. “Maybe we’ll see Sam soon.” Dean let his hand drift from her shoulder to slide down to her hand. Not wanting to stop the contact for some reason he squeezed it.

“Thank you. Thank you for helping me. I know you don’t have to.”

“Of course I do. I love you.” It was a statement, simple fact without apology.

Dean blinked, then without questioning himself, he leaned in and kissed Castiel. It was soft, and sweet and natural. He didn’t want it to ever end.


	8. In the Open

       Castiel felt the warmth of Dean’s lips cover her own. The warm feeling spread, tingling all over her body, until it settled like a burning flame in her chest. A hot rush filled her head and ran over her cheeks. When they broke apart she half expected to see herself burning. Dean looked at her curiously, his face was gentle, but his eyes seemed sad.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

Castiel shook her head. Human emotions were running high again. She felt reckless, selfish, and heady. Tears still wet on her face, burning up with her warm blush. The sensations of emotional and physical reactions together were intoxicating, and the human vessel was tingling everywhere. Her only thought was of Dean. This was the beloved vessel of heaven, the man she’d been sent to save, the person she pulled from hell, remaking his body as God once had.

She pulled at his shirt and pressed her lips against his again. The human heart inside her pumped frantically, and with emotions, tingling touches, and smells consuming her mind, Castiel barely noticed when she began licking at Dean’s lips through the kiss, and running her hand up the side of his head. He made a muffled sound of protest and pulled away, leaning back on the bed.

“Cas. Stop.” Panting, she lay back against the pillow, feeling regret and want tangle with the myriad of other sensations she was feeling. Dean tried to flatten the hair of the side of his head she had pushed up. “Catherine is still… here.” He said after a moment.

Her breathing slowing, Castiel managed to speak. “I’m sorry. I don’t…” She ran a hand over her face, “I hardly know what’s happening to me anymore Dean.” Her voice sounded like a plea. “I feel so many things, and yet I feel less angelic by the day.”

He sighed. They were quiet for a moment. Castiel began to panic, what if he walked away, and just pretended this never happened in the Winchester way? “Castiel, why did you save me?” His question hung in the air before them both.

“What do you mean?” She was confused by the inquiry. 

“After the cage and everything, why come back? Why heal me? I have nothing left in the world.” Castiel felt ashamed as she looked at his grief-broken face. Dean continued, “The apocalypse was over. I was over. Why Cas? Why did you do it?” Her heart stuttered and a different kind of heat flashed into her face.

“Don’t,” she whispered, “Don’t make me say it.” Dean caught her face with his hand, turning her eyes to his. If she told him everything, what would happen? Castiel knew one thing for sure; she would be cast out from heaven permanently.

“Tell me.”

“I love you.” Castiel could feel herself breaking. “I love you more than anything.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and Dean let his hand drop from her face. “I think I love you more than God. I can’t go on into eternity without you.” She was sobbing now. “I already rebelled for you, I lost everything for you. I can never go home! I can never go back now.” Her breathing hitched and wavered. “I was selfish. I was reckless and stupid. I should have left you alone… but I just couldn’t.” Castiel continued to cry. It seemed like all she was good for these days anyway. Now that it was all out in the open, she had to leave. Dean would never accept her. Staggering out of the bed, she ran into the hall. She grabbed a backpack from the hook at the bottom of the stairs and threw it over her shoulders.

“Stop!” Dean yelled from the stairs. “Where are you going?” He thundered down them as she reached the door. “Cas, wait.” She paused, her hand on the door. “Just… wait.” He came to a halt beside her. “Just let me catch up to you.” He said breathlessly. Castiel felt confused.

“You already caught up to me.” She gestured to his hand on the door.

“No, I mean mentally.” He let out a sigh. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

“But that’s the problem Dean!” She screeched, “I can’t think clearly anymore. I have no guidance, not even rational thought it seems.”

“Whoa, hold on.” He grabbed her arm which had begun to wave wildly above her head, and pulled it down to her side. “You’re the most rational being I know. Cas, I trust you. And if you say you’re in love with me, I just have to understand what you mean.”

Castiel gulped, feeling another blush creep into the vessel’s cheeks. She felt weirdly detached and connected to Catherine’s body all at once. Everything was confusing. Drawing in another breath, she yanked her arm out of Dean’s grip and wandered over to the couch where she sat down. He followed and sat down next to her.

“Okay, Cas.” Dean began calmly. “If you could just tell me this: Do you love me like I love Sam, or do you love me like…” he paused, searching for the right example, “Like my Dad loved my Mom?” Castiel closed her eyes and shook her head. “If you’re not sure right now, just say that.” He added.

“The second one.” She whispered, all the while looking for some kind of reaction from him. He didn’t seem to have one.

Still speaking calmly he asked, “How long have you felt this way?”

“A long time.” She didn’t elaborate. He didn’t ask her to. They sat together in a pregnant silence for a few minutes, or maybe a few days.

Finally he spoke again. “Were you going to run away in that old nightgown?”

Castiel felt a smile scrunch up her cheeks. “I guess so. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“You were panicking.” He laughed. She watched the way his laugh lines creased and unfolded, revealing tiny freckles between the lines of skin. “What were you afraid of?”

“You.”

“Did you think I’d be mad?”

Castiel shrugged. “Why are we even talking about this Dean? I thought you didn’t have "chick flick" moments.” She provided quotations as Sam had taught her on the new phrase.

“Look, I’ve had a lot of time to myself lately. Being back here at Bobby’s… It’s brought back some old memories, and I’ve realized I should have said things to them. To Sam and Bobby. I probably should’ve had more chick flick moments with them. Really told them how much they meant to me.”

Castiel looked up and saw damp under Dean’s eyes.

“I’m not going to make the same mistakes. Cas, you are really important to me.” He turned to look her in the eyes. “It might take me some time to catch up to you, but if you’ll wait for me… I wanna let you know how much you mean to me.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll wait.”

“Thanks.” Dean grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Then he lifted his gaze and ever so gently placed a single kiss on her forehead. “I love you too.”

It was barely a whisper but Castiel heard it. She heard it with her whole heart.


	9. Catching Up

       Dean knelt next to the bed and laid his head down on the mattress while the rest of him slumped against the frame. He was supposed to be finding a chart of sigils he’d left up here, but he just needed a minute to think. Pulling his arms over his head, he let out a long sigh.

It’d been a few days since the kiss. Kisses? Dean wasn’t sure what happened. He’d been trying to pinpoint when exactly he’d become attracted to the angel. Was it the recent female anatomy? Somehow he didn’t think so. Catherine was lovely, but quite a bit older than him, and not exactly a fantasy girl. There was also the small fact that she was already married to Jesus. Was it when they first shared a bed those weeks ago? That first hug? When Cas had showed up, on a bus, practically human, practically useless, yet still willing to aid them in their fight? Dean couldn’t say for sure. One thing he knew though, he was catching up fast. Falling head over heels, face down the stairs, in love with Cas. Dean had never been in a relationship with anyone for long, much less a being of celestial light, millions of years old… Yeah, this was going to end well.

He pulled his head off the bed and lunged onto it, laying across it now on his stomach. He tried not to dwell on the whole thing. It was easy most of the time. Both of them were preoccupied with the insane adventure-vacation they were planning in hell, and after everything that happened, Castiel seemed to withdraw. Probably embarrassed by the whole thing. Dean knew he was. They stayed in separate beds now, and Catherine woke up instead of Cas each morning, much earlier than Dean was used to.  
The first day, he’d walked into her room to face a steamy, towel-clad nun, and an earful of yelling. Castiel even chastised him for it later which practically made no sense, as he was possessing the poor woman. Though, in retrospect, he probably should have knocked regardless. Castiel usually showed up later in the day, more rested and spent most of her time outside trying new sigils.

Dean sighed again, remembering the sheet of them he was supposed to be retrieving for her. Sitting up he grabbed them off the side table. He liked that he had a side table, that he had a room. It’d been a long time since he’d had a place to call his own. Bobby’s had always been a sort of second home anyway, but now it felt real. He felt around on the side table for the four horseman rings and rubbed his fingertips over them. Lately he’d become sort of a demented hobbit, stowing them in his pocket and taking them out every hour, convinced there had to be some way to use them to get into Hell again. Cas said it was only a one way ticket to the cage. Not worth the risk. But Dean couldn’t help thinking they might be the key to getting their mission accomplished. Remembering himself, Dean shivered and tucked them away in his pocket again.

Dashing outside, he found Cas etching Enochian in the dirt with a long stick. The sun was getting low in the sky. “Here’s that sheet.” He thrust it toward her. Cas plucked it from his hands and narrowed her eyes as she studied it. Dean fell back onto a porch step.

“Catherine’s eyesight really is terrible.” She muttered.

“Well, when you snatched her body away, you didn’t bother to get her toothbrush either did you?” He said lightly.

“No. I was too busy flying back to save you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Dean stood up and pulled the chart away from her. “How about I pay both you and Catherine back, and we go get some reading glasses?” He dangled it over her head out of reach, feeling strange she was so much shorter than him now.

“But…” She started.

“We’re almost out of food again anyway. C’mon you can’t even read it right now.”

“Fine.” Cas scrubbed out the etchings with her toe.

Once they were both in the car, Dean stared at his list. Sam usually made supply lists, and he hated the way his own cramped writing looked on the page.

Cas buckled her seatbelt, then noticing his hesitation she turned to look at him better. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just a lot to get, that’s all. Hope you don’t mind going along with our little cover story.”

“I don’t mind.” She shrugged, tugging one of Karen’s old sweaters around her tighter. “But you said before, I’m not a very good liar. Maybe you should do the talking?”

“Sure thing.”

Bobby didn’t live in a big town. It was a good and bad thing. Good because it was so remote and he could get to know the sheriff personally, bad because there were only so many people, and rumors grew thick and fast. Luckily no one seemed to question Dean and his “wife” living there for the time being, but everywhere he went, they got condolences for Bobby, and it made his throat tighten uncomfortably. Quickly, Dean pulled up to a parking space on Main Street.

“I thought we were getting groceries.” Castiel said as they climbed out of the Impala.

He shrugged. “Just thought we should get your glasses and things first.”

When they came into the eye exam place he approached the counter and told the dude in the lab coat what they were looking for. “Just some simple reading glasses. You know, magnify the page a bit more. Right Hon?” he asked looking back where Cas was examining some frames. Way too delayed Castiel realized he was talking to her.

“What?” She looked up at them both staring at her. “Yes. That’s right.”

Dean had to refrain from smacking his own forehead.

 

Next they went over to a women’s clothing shop. “Pick whatever you want. I just feel guilty making you use Bobby and Karen’s old things.” He said, approaching a rack full of mysteriously fluffy earrings.

Cas looked down, then smiled at him. “Thank you.”

At first he tried to be helpful. But after a few more racks, he found a chair to revive his energy, which might be more helpful to them both. Cas disappeared into a fitting room for a while. The salesgirl helped pile a few more garments over the dressing room door. She kept calling Cas Mrs. Winchester which made Dean feel simultaneously nauseous and a little giddy. Swallowing down the feelings was second nature by now though.

“Dude. You ever gonna come out and show me stuff?”

“What? Am I supposed to get your approval?” Came the muffled and annoyed response. Dean chuckled and leaned back on the chair.

“Nah. I guess not.” He closed his eyes and before he knew it, Dean was being shaken awake by Cas’ concerned face.

“Hey, I bought these while you were asleep. I hope that’s okay.”

“Wha…?” He patted his pocket to find his wallet in its usual place. “You used the silver card?

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay great. You got everything you wanted?” He shook himself and began stretching to feel more awake. “God, sorry I fell asleep. That’s embarrassing.”

“Yes. Thank you sweetheart.” Dean felt a flush rise to his face. Cas smiled and took his hand to pull him out of the shop.

 

It was a relief to finally be back at Bobby’s. Getting out had been good for them both. Dean had been starting to suspect they were both going a little stir crazy, and of course all the new human feelings Cas was experiencing really weren’t helping either of them. His head felt clearer now they were back in familiar territory. And maybe, just maybe they could work it all out.

Cas stood unnervingly still in the foyer. The glasses looked a little strange on her face. She had picked out thin, wiry frames that just barely ringed her light blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back. She didn’t seem to like the distracting long strands in her face, and wore it constantly in a bun.

Cas turned her head side to side, methodically scanning the room. “Everything looks so clear!” Dean felt a pang of guilt. Despite all Castiel had ever done for him, and he still took the angel for granted. “Thank you for getting all these things. I probably won’t need to use them for much longer though.” She set down a bag full of black pants and gray and white tops.

Dean perked up, shoving past to lay the groceries in the kitchen. “You think you’re nearly healed then?” 

Cas followed him in, putting a bag of cans next to his. “I have an idea for a sigil. I think you might right about the horsemen’s rings. I’ll need them in part of the process.”

“Hate to say I told you so…” Dean grinned as he fished the ring clump out of his pocket and handed it over to Cas, who lifted it up to her new glasses to study them more closely.

She seemed satisfied and handed the rings back to him. “Keep them safe?” She picked up some cans and put them away in the pantry, leaving Dean with their weight in his hand.

Going up the stairs later, Dean stopped Cas from going ahead to her room. “So you’re still going to do this? Save Sam, and use whatever’s left of your angel juice on a suicide mission?”

She just stared at him, looking at him like he should already know the answer. “Of course.”

Dean looked down. “If you’re just doing it because of me…”

Cas shook her head and smiled softly. “I owe it to Sam. He shouldn’t have to suffer for heaven.” She moved again toward her door and suddenly Dean didn’t want her to go.

“Cas.” It was almost a whisper. “I think I’m catching up to you.”

“Hmm?” She seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Do you still have trouble sleeping?” She nodded. “Stay with me.” He gulped, “Please.” Because fuck it. He was tired and still grieving, and the whole situation was confusing, and the only thing he really knew was he didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want Cas to be alone tonight.

She didn’t have to say anything, just followed him into their shared bedroom and clicked the door closed for him. It was the first time that when they slept together, Dean allowed himself to curl an arm around her skinny shoulders, brushing skin against skin.


End file.
